


Metalfest was an excuse

by platinumnib



Category: Tarja, Within Temptation (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Tribadism, Vibrator, metalfest 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 01:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumnib/pseuds/platinumnib
Summary: For Sharon and Tarja, after the effort comes comfort





	Metalfest was an excuse

_ June 4th, 2017 - Plzen, Czech Republic _

 

Every few feet on their way to the dressing rooms, Tarja, giggling with love and still high on the rush of a crowd of screaming thousands, pushed a powerless Sharon against the wall to kiss the soul out of her. Thus, it took them longer than expected to reach their respective doors, but no more than five minutes later, both were out wearing whatever they’d reached for first and enormous sunglasses to hide most of their faces from cohorts of rabid fans.

An SUV was waiting for them, ready for the hour-long trip to Prague, where their reservations had been made for them.

The Four Seasons.  _ Finally _ . The backseat had begun to seem too small for their mischievous play - and the driver, not quite keen on hearing the noises they couldn’t hold.

With a last, somewhat hasty liplock inside their suite, each of them took to one of the bathrooms to freshen up before a special celebration of a show well put on.

Tarja rid herself of the sweat and grime collected onstage with a refreshing shower full of vigorous scrubbing. Once dry, she pulled on a pair of lacy teal French panties that somehow managed to make her rather modest backside quite alluring, and a matching satin crop top. Her hair, she simply parted down the middle and let it fall to either side. No polish or makeup of any sort, save for some black brushed on her lids and lashes. Sharon liked her women - woman, the one and only - “natural” and simple and so, Tarja would accommodate.

When she came out, Sharon still hadn’t. She headed for the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, getting excited already and just relishing the prospect of a good, well-needed session of dirty lovemaking. That, and she had a brand new toy to try out.

For two months, she’d had to make do with her own hand in front of a video chat window where her wife was doing the same. It never quite did, and more often than not, she had to enjoy the sight of Sharon’s climax instead of the feel of her own.

But now they were together, she’d take care of Sharon first and work her own self up all throughout. And when Sharon was sated and done with, Tarja would use her to finally cum proper.

She licked her lips, craving the real thing.

“Tari…” 

She raised her head and there the real thing was striking a pose right in front of her eyes.

Her eyes cast the saucy look of a temptress. Her hair, all undone and gathered over one shoulder, fell down to cover a black, tighter-than-sin dressing gown, knotted at the waist with nothing underneath. The silk had the decency to cover her nipples and center, but so barely as to be even more of a beckon for curious hands than if she were stark naked.

She stalked towards Tarja on the balls of her feet, almost balancing on red-varnished toes (the same deep and sexual shade as her fingernails) to give her hips a hypnotic and inviting sway from side to side. Behind the thin fabric pretending to hide them from Tarja’s lustful ganders, her breasts noticeably bobbed up and down with each step.

As she closed in on her speechless girlfriend, her perfume - Rose Ikebana, sweet and pink and priceless, same as her - wafted through the air and filled Tarja’s nostrils with every intake of breath, numbed her mind until she could only see, smell or think of Sharon and, beyond her, nothing that mattered.

Tarja was the sort of woman who had a “favorite gym” in every European capital, but Sharon was a living reminder that however many hours she spent on a treadmill running after a perfect body, she would always be outdone.

Sharon was on par with goddesses and she made it look frustratingly effortless.

Tarja huffed a short breath; she could behave no more. She stood and covered the last step between them and, with a commanding growl, pulled her straight into a fiery kiss. Sharon’s eyebrows rose at once in genuine surprise. She kissed back not to be outdone, but the little woman still very much had the upper hand. Her tongue didn’t explore, it wrapped bold and confident around Sharon’s and scoured every corner of her warm mouth. 

In loving unison, they filled the air with languid moans and sighs then after a second-long reprieve, delved in again with even more hunger.

It seemed as if they’d never be done until their mouths, both out of breath, finally parted for good and they opened their eyes. Tarja’s lips settled into a tender smile as she brushed her thumb across Sharon’s flushed cheek. 

“You look so, so lovely…” she couldn’t help but whisper. 

Nothing made her more excited than the thrill of being with her colleague-turned-lover; or was it lover-turned colleague? 

Yes, that was definitely it.

She kept Sharon in her arms for a few moments longer, taking in some more of her heady scent, kissing her exposed collarbone. Soft hands drew a trail down the curve of Sharon’s back and her hips, and lower.

“Tari,” she said playfully. “Are you sure your hand should be there already?” 

Though she did enjoy a very slow buildup, it was nothing but blatant teasing; even if Tarja’d taken her hands off, Sharon would have put them back herself.

“You’re a lurid beast, not a schoolgirl. My hands should be all over you, my gorgeous lady.” She punctuated her words with a firm pinch and Sharon bit her lip not to squeal. “My sweet Sharon… my loveliest angel.”

Those names never failed to make her lover’s knees go weak. Tarja had a wonderfully flattering way about her of making a woman feel wanted and precious.

“Now,” she murmured, fingering the tight-fitting silk down Sharon’s arm, “why don’t we get this off you.”

Sharon nodded with a coy smirk and let herself be slowly disrobed. The belt was pulled undone, the robe slid off and wound up in a pool of fabric on the carpeted ground.

Tarja drew a sharp breath at the sight in front of her. Aside from the familiar and thoroughly explored curves and hollows, the tautness of her belly and the birthmark near her hip, there was a new addition to Sharon’s body. Two additions, that was, one on each of her breasts.

Solid gold barbells went through her nipples, carrying rings that hung down to the bottom edge of the areola.

“Are those for me to play with?” she frowned, nudging one with the back of her index. It was enough for Sharon to shiver. 

“Pull them,” she replied in a sexy whisper, “and you can have whatever comes along.”

Tarja hummed with a satisfied little smirk.

“Clever girl…”

Carefully tugging on a ring, she led a moaning Sharon by it to the nearby king-size and pushed her down onto it on her back. Obviously, she had a few ideas already.

She leant down and planted a kiss near Sharon’s navel, struggling to decide whether she wanted to lick her way up or down, before the light tinkle of the twin rings proved too enticing to resist. Sticking out the tip of her tongue, she pushed it flat against the pale skin and slowly dragged it up, making Sharon wriggle and sigh.

She reached the full, perfect mounds and pushed her tongue up the valley in between, went on to find Sharon’s throat and her licks turned into bruisingly hard kisses.

After a minute, she’d left two or three rosy red marks and Sharon was getting desperate to feel her elsewhere.

Tarja wandered all over each of Sharon’s breasts before latching onto a nipple to toy with, swirling her tongue around it one moment and suckling hard the next. Her fingers went to work much the same way on the ringed nub that was still untouched, until both had turned as firm as diamonds. It slipped out of her lips with a pop, equal parts lewd and adorable.

“You know, I’m always jealous of those,” she said with firm, pale breast flesh spilling out of her small hands. “Whenever you’re dancing around and they are too… it makes me lose my mind.”

Sharon only moaned - the sensual treatment hadn’t left her capable of much else - and ran her fingers through Tarja’s hair.

“Take those off,” she asked and slipped a finger underneath Tarja’s waistband, but her hand was swatted aside.

“Not yet. I keep my clothes until it’s my turn to get off.”

Tarja straddled one of Sharon’s thighs and shuffled forward until they were pussy to pussy with only thin silk between them. She leant down and took Sharon’s lip between her own to suck on while her middle slowly began to gyrate.

A moan escaped her lover’s mouth only for Tarja to mute it with hers. She kept her hips rocking, building up over long moments to a steady pace she’d hold until the end. Her hands were roaming all over Sharon’s body, stroking and squeezing, pinching, helping her hips along in their task. Her lips were ajar, her look deep and soulful and locked onto Sharon, who thought she just might drown in all the love gathered in Tarja’s eyes.

The roughness of fine lace dragging against her nerves, every move resonated through her body in ripples of torturous pleasure that left prickled skin and tense muscles in their path.

Both lubricated freely, and the heat and the wetness they exuded welded them together at the middle. 

“Oh, Tari…” she moaned. “Not much longer to go.”

Tarja’s hand cradled her jaw the way she always loved to do, and stroked her cheek and mouth with a gentle thumb. Sharon reflexively parted her lips to lightly suck on the pad of it. Moments like those always lasted a lifetime.

“How close are you?” Tarja asked.

“Almost there…”

“Good, good…” she crooned. “Hold it ‘til I tell you.”

Sharon nodded - convulsed, more like.

Tarja reached for the bedside table - without once slowing the maddening movement of her lower body - and pulled out what seemed like a large egg covered in pink silicone. At the push of a button at the bottom of it, the thing began to shake and quietly hum in her hand.

She brought the egg down towards Sharon’s pubis, touched it to her skin for a moment and saw her body quiver out of control as she moaned long and low.

The egg slid down an inch and buzzed right against Sharon’s most sensitive spot.

“Oh God…” the words came as a strangled whimper out of her throat. 

“Not yet,” Tarja hummed, very much approving of the reactions. Her own voice was strained and husky, but nowhere near as much. She was having fun; Sharon was having more than she could take, but she’d obey all the same. 

The moment the wicked device slipped inside of her well-lubricated entrance, Sharon’s eyes rolled back in their sockets. The cry she gave was positively pathetic and no one, heartless though they may be, would have prolonged her agony.

“Now, you can cum.” 

Just then, Sharon arched her back into a bow ready to snap.

If she was coming or going, she hadn’t the faintest idea, but it felt like nothing else in the world. She cried out and shook against Tarja, gushing liquid all over them both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she muttered, all of her body quaking at the vibrator’s whim.

The thing was merciless and powerful. Too powerful. She screeched for it to be taken out but by the time Tarja tugged it free by its string, Sharon had already launched into her next climax.

And Tarja was rolling and grinding against her all throughout, filling her eyes with the obscene spectacle, and carrying her from one orgasmic wave to another, until she washed ashore, dripping wet and wrung out.

Slowly, she curled up into a fetal heap of searing, sweaty flesh shaking with little gasps and sobs.

Tarja smiled fondly at the poor sight of her and lay down by Sharon’s side to cover her face in unhurried kisses until she’d gotten herself back together.

“How are you feeling?”

“Half-dead,” she sighed. “I love you, you know…” 

“Have you got it in you to show me how much?”

Sharon rolled her body on top of Tarja in a manner most sloth-like and cradled her face.

“What would make you happy?”

“I’d like to take your pretty face for a ride… and we’re set up the wrong way for it, it seems to me.”

In a flash, Sharon found herself underneath, and Tarja was straddling her chest. She pulled her skimpy coverings off in a second and rode up until Sharon was nuzzling her well-kept bush of soft, dripping wet curls (“natural”).

“How good can you breathe?”

Tarja was short and as slim as a healthy woman could allow herself to be; her weight was nothing at all to bear. Sharon stuck her tongue out, gave a lap to try the waters and Tarja flinched in response.

She didn’t need much more to start rocking her womanhood onto Sharon’s face.

“Get to work, then!” she groaned, clutching a fistful of the black mane scattered all over the pillow as an incentive for its owner.

It worked, going by the way Sharon’s tongue darted into her folds to lick up their wetness as best she could. Up and down it went again and again at a feverish rhythm, along the offered entrance, teasing the engorged, nervous bud at the top then going back to licking between her labia. Tarja’s savage cries and her juices were pouring out so fast Sharon thought she was drowning. But she kept working bravely, ever the one to please.

Her rider was panting and grinding without a hint of mercy and pulling her up by the hair to burrow further into her pussy lips, spread wide and showing the bright pink beyond them.

“Drink me, Sharon, eat me fucking raw!” she groaned, almost delirious.

Orders were superfluous, as Sharon was very willing and hungry for her lover’s cunt, but even if she hadn’t been, there was no way she could do otherwise; the strong thighs either side of her face were clamping up as the inevitable was nearing; they almost had her in a headlock.

Sharon latched onto her clitoris and began to suck to the pace of Tarja’s rocking hips. She let out a long, low wail, which quickly turned into a loud scream as a gushing orgasm drenched Sharon further than she already was. In a moment, it was over and Tarja was boneless and empty.

She heavily rolled her body off Sharon’s face and, between raucous pants, managed to soundly kiss her mouth and taste her own pungent flavor.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she inquired in ragged breaths.

“I thought you just might break my nose.”

“Oh, sorry about it, dear…” she cooed, dropping a repentant kiss onto the tip of said nose. “Your pretty face does make for a very nice sex toy.”

Sharon flushed all at once and pulled her hair in front of her face to cover it in mock shame while Tarja giggled and amorously gave her lips a sound buss.

“You taste like pussy,” she noted with a grin, almost proud of herself for such a thorough face-fucking.

“Your fault.”

That much was indubitable.

A knock was heard at the door, followed by a hesitant “Room service!”.

Tarja tilted her head askance but Sharon only smiled and stood off the bed, reaching for a robe to drape around her naked self.

“That’s our mouthwash.”

As soon as she opened the door, Sharon saw in the groom girl’s eyes how well-fucked she had to look. Skin all flushed with love-bites showing, hair tousled, wet with more than her own sweat and barely covered by the robe hastily knotted, revealing much of what should have remained hidden. She tightened the garment quickly over her chest and looked away in shame, as did the girl out of propriety.

“You know who’s with me,” Sharon whispered as she slipped the employee a bill and took the bottle, ice bucket and glasses from the trolley to set them on the nearest table. “I would be grateful if no one else did.”

The girl smiled with a furious red blush and handed back a small white card - one of the hotel’s business cards - along with a pen.

“Maybe I could be swayed with an autograph? Management wouldn’t give me the night off, so I couldn’t make the show,” she explained.

Sharon signed the paper and gave it back before shooting the fan a parting smirk. She shut the door to find Tarja (who’d taken the time to put on a dressing robe of her own) had popped the cork and was pouring them two chilled goblets.

Sipping the exquisite wine, they made their way to the balcony hoping to catch the first rays of daylight. A sunrise was less romantic than a sunset, perhaps, but they had champagne, the stunning sight of Prague and a massive suite that smelt of sex. Surely that was romantic enough.


End file.
